The Violinist

He was drunk again. She knew it from the moment she heard the slam of the door and the heavy footsteps as he staggers unsteadily into the house. She remained silent in her room, waiting to see what he would do tonight.
"Victoria!"
She cringed at his loud roar and scrambled as quickly as she could to the living room.
"Yes, father?"
"What may I ask is this?" He sneered, holding up a stack of her music scores. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as her eyes widened and realization sank in. She had been practicing her violin while her father was out drinking and had forgotten to keep her scores after she had lugged her violin case back into her room.
"I... I was practicing..." Victoria replied in a small voice, casting her eyes to the ground.
"Practising!" He roared, inches away from her faces. His breath reeked of alcohol. She flinched and almost took a step back.

Okay, some random stuff. The mood to write suddenly struck me and I just had to write something. I think I left about half my brain cells along in that crushed up car. I was leafing through my DNA and Genomics notes today. I tried to study. I tried to read. But. Nothing went into my head. I get so tired easily. I keep wanting to sleep. I don't feel good about my impending mid-years.